


Solstice

by missdibley



Series: East Of The Sun, West Of The Moon [1]
Category: Magnus Martinsson (Wallander), Magnus Martinsson - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Wallander (UK TV), Wallander - All Media Types
Genre: Chicago, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Magnus Martinsson finds himself far from home on the longest day of the year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm Magnus. Detective Magnus Martinsson of the Ystad Police Force.." He sticks his free hand out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently instead of pumping it in shake.
> 
> I squeeze back, and try not to whimper when he slowly (reluctantly? I hope) pulls his hand away.

$13.79.

That's how much I've spent in the 7-11 in my office building this week.

This is the thought I have as I walk through the lobby, not stopping to marvel at the ornate vintage ceilings and light fixtures, or listen to the gentle sound of letters as they fall, plop plop plop, through the chute into the mailbox mounted on the wall.

It's Friday, and I've got $6.21 left in my weekly junk food allowance, and I know exactly what I want.

A corn dog, a Super Big Gulp, and a bag of Fritos. Perfect.

I pull the door between the lobby and the convenience store open, permitting a few ladies wearing polyester blouses and capri pants with their sneakers to scoot through, and let myself in. I pause briefly, surveying the store as though it were my kingdom. I nod hello at Jim the store manager as he heads to the back room with a distributor. I run my fingers over the tops of single-serving sized bags of potato chips before plucking a packet of Fritos from the shelf. I fill a Super Big Gulp cup with ice and cherry coke from the dispenser, then make my way to the register at the front to complete my purchase.

"Hello, whaddaya got for me?" Maurel smiles at me.

"Hey, Maurel. Just these," I gesture to the coke and the chips I've placed on the counter. "And a corn dog, please."

"Alrighty." Maurel steps away to box up my corn dog, and I grab my money so it's ready when she returns. "You need a bag?"

"Nah." I hand over my cash. "Still gotta get cheese and chili for the dog."

"Oh that's right," Maurel sighs as she gives me my change. "That sounds amazing."

"You should try it some time!" I look Maurel in the eye. "Promise me you will?"

"Believe me, girl, if I had your figure, I would!"

I can't believe her.

"Maurel!" I laugh. "I'm a pretty big girl, no thanks to these corn dogs and these cokes I keep buying!"

"But what you got is all in the right place!" She cracks up, and I have to laugh as I shake my head.

"Thanks, Maurel. Have a good weekend!"

"You too dear!" She waves me off then turns with a smile to help her next customer.

I make my way to the machine that dispenses cheese and chili at the push of a button. I put my drink down on the counter, and tuck the Fritos into my purse next to my Kindle. It's 90 degrees and humid as hell outside, but I am determined to pig out on junk food (and the fan fic I've downloaded to my e-reader) outside in the park if it kills me.

I drown the corn dog in processed cheese and beef chili, grimacing at the odor before I shut the box. I'm sucking an errant blob of cheese off my thumb when I hear someone clearing their throat.

"Pardon me? Can I ask you something?"

I turn around and look up towards the voice. The voice, sweet if a bit hesitant, coming from the pink lips of a incredibly tall, beautiful man with a head of blond curls and large blue eyes. His high cheekbones and firm jaw give him a serious air. He's wearing a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black dress slacks, and polish black oxfords. There is a nylon lanyard with a badge but it's slung over his shoulder so I can't check for a name. He wears a shiny golden badge that I don't recognize clipped to his hip.

It takes a moment for me to compose myself, then withdraw my thumb from my mouth with a disgustingly loud pop.

At least I didn't burp.

"Yes? I mean, sure?" I'm aware of how weirdly childish my voice sounds.

The blond angel holds up a hot dog in a cardboard dish.

"If I wanted to eat this Chicago style, what do I do?" He gestures towards the condiments behind me.

"Oh? Oh!" I step back a bit so he can get closer to the toppings and, thank goodness, to me. "You just need the right toppings in the right order, of course. Come here. I'll show you."

He smiles with relief, revealing perfect white teeth.

"Great! I've been stuck in meetings all day, and I've been craving one ever since I got in last night."

"From out of town, huh?" I was used to conventioneers, especially in summer. "Any place I might have been."

"Out of the country, actually. I'm from Sweden, a little town called Ystad. Ever heard of it?"

I shake my head.

"No worries. Nothing remarkable about it." He looks down at the hot dog, then back up at me.

"I'm Magnus. Detective Magnus Martinsson of the Ystad Police Force.." He sticks his free hand out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently instead of pumping it in shake.

I squeeze back, and try not to whimper when he slowly (reluctantly? I hope) pulls his hand away.

"Halla. Halla Roque." I pick up my cherry coke and sip - why is my throat so dry all of a sudden?

"Halla? Pretty, and it's a Swedish name. Are you Swedish yourself?" Magnus looks hopeful, a light comes up in his eyes.

"Ah, no. Dad's favorite uncle was a photographer, and liked to travel quite a bit. He was in Sweden when I was born, and insisted on naming me. Uncle Gerhard never had kids, so my parents let him. Probably because I was their second child, anyway." I shrug.

"So if you don't mind me asking, are you..." Magnus looks hesitant.

"No, it's fine." I grin to reassure him. "I'm Filipino, born over there, but also American, naturalized a few years after we moved to New York when I was a baby."

"Are you visiting from New York?"

"Nah. I came here for college ages ago, and never left. I love it here, and not just because it's cheaper and friendlier than New York." I'm babbling but I cannot stop myself.

"Huh."

I feel myself blush as Magnus's eyes move over my face, starting at the top where my hair was no doubt frizzing because of the humidity, then down to my lips, which feel just as dry as my throat. I have another sip of coke.

"So, um, your hot dog? Shall we get to it?" I clear my throat.

"Of course! Let's see." Magnus steps up to the counter, considering the condiments before him. "What do I start with?"

"The mustard," I reply, picking up the bottle and handing it to Magnus. "I'm not sure there's a rule or a limit to how much you can put on, so whatever you prefer should be fine."

"So far, so good." Magnus squeezes the bottle, squirting a few stripes of mustard up and down the dog. I make a mental note that his beautiful hands, with their long elegant fingers, make a task as mundane as squeezing mustard out of a bottle look graceful.

"The onions." I nod at the container of raw, chopped white onion. Magnus scoops some up in a teaspoon, then shakes them over the dog.

"Relish, then the dill pickle, and tomatoes."

Magnus goes easy on the relish, which is a lurid green. He takes three pickle spears, and I swoon internally, as I love pickles. He dots tomato chunks at both ends of the dog. He looks at me expectantly.

"Now all that's left are the sport peppers, and a dash of celery salt." I pick up three peppers with some plastic tongs and drop them on top of the dog.

We both reach for the celery salt shaker, touching hands, knocking the shaker over.

"Aw, shit!" I mutter. "After you." I watch him pick up the shaker and wiggle it over the dog. I draw my fingers through the spilled celery salt, then toss it over my left shoulder.

"For luck," I explain, noticing the confused look on Magnus's face.

We both peek at the hot dog, our masterpiece.

"It looks great, doesn't it?" Magnus enthuses.

"Yeah. It really does." I say, practically in a whisper.

Magnus looks up to catch me staring at him. He grins.

Real smooth, Roque.

"Are you taking that to go?" He raises his eyebrows, nodding at my food.

"Yeah. There's a little park outside, just across Wacker Drive, down by the river. It's hot but I'm determined to have a picnic." I bite my lip. "I don't suppose..."

"I'd love to join you..."

(YAAAASSSSS)

"But I've got to take this back to the conference and eat it before my next session starts in..." Magnus lifts up a wrist to look at the sport watch strapped to it. "Shit, 15 minutes."

"Ah. Well, have a nice conference, then, and enjoy the weekend." I try not to sound super pathetic but I can't help it.

"I know this is short notice but any chance you're free for dinner tonight?"

"Wow that is short notice, or would be if I had plans. Which I don't." I frown. "You know, that sounded a lot less loser-ish in my head."

Magnus throw back his head and laughs.

I resist the urge to climb up him like a tree so I can plant kisses on his exposed neck.

I begin walking to the front of the store and he follows, falling into step behind me. We stop just inside, enjoying the air conditioning before going outside.

"Well, that sounds awfully lucky to me." Magnus fumbles in his pocket, then produces a card and hands it to me. "I don't have cell service here, but my email's on that. Write me this afternoon, pick a place, and we'll go."

"I will." I tuck the card safely into my bag. "What time..."

"I'll be done around 5:30, so 6:00? Meet here in front of the 7-11?"

"Perfect. I work until then." I look down at my vintage sundress, smoothing down its full skirt that I never iron because I am too lazy to iron anything. And also because I do not own an iron. "Of course, it would be nice to get a shower in before tonight, but I don't think I can get home before then."

"Maybe you can come back to my hotel room and take one there, before we head out?" Magnus offers, then blanches. "Oh my lord, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"No, it's okay." I sound so reassuring while in my head a scene of the two of us, naked, him rutting against me in one of those huge shower stalls you always see in Skinemax movies, has already begun. "I'll just, you know, cool off another way. Get another big gulp. Run into a fountain."

"Well, if you're sure." Magnus looks doubtful.

"I do love hotel showers, and fancy hotel toiletries, so I may change my mind and take you up on that shower after all." I try to sound breezy.

"I hope you do."

"What?" I startle at what I think are the words "I hope you do" coming out of Magnus's mouth.

Magnus looks at me, then wipes a blob of cheese that apparently had been on the corner of my lip THE ENTIRE TIME I WAS TALKING TO HIM.

"I said, I hope you do." Magnus smiles at me.

Jesus Christ, I am so fucked.

Magnus squeezes my bare shoulder.

"Bye, Halla. See you later?"

"Yeah. See you later." I repeat.

"Email me, yeah?" Now he looks worried.

"What? Oh yes." I'm in some kind of a heat-or-corn-dog-topped-with-chili-and-cheese-chatted-up-by-an-impossibly-hot-Swedish-dude stupor. I smile. "Later. Soon."

Magnus looks up at Maurel, who's still up at the register. He waves at her.

"Bye!" Magnus holds up his hot dog in a kind of salute. "Thanks for the dog!"

"Bye Snuggums!" Maurel chortles, and Magnus joins her in laughter.

"Snuggums?" I smile up at Magnus, then turn to Maurel. "Did you just call him Snuggums?"

"I most surely did!" Maurel crows.

"Maurel, don't you mean Officer Snuggums?"

"YESSSSSSS!" Maurel cracks up, then goes back to wiping down the countertop.

I turn back to see Magnus standing over me. He's smirking.

"Officer Snuggums? That's cute. That's very cute." He sighs.

"I know." I shrug. "I'm a funny girl."

"Yes, I think I see that now."

"And you will see me later."

"Yes," Magnus breathes. "I most certainly will." Magnus takes a beat, then with a sigh steps back, and pushes through the revolving door. He waves at me from the sidewalk before running to catch the light.

As soon as I lose sight of him, I run to the ice cream freezer, open the door and stand for a bit, letting the air fan my skirt, praying it's enough to cool the delcious heat between my legs.


	2. Midnight Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smells like... I can't describe it. This quote from Lynda Barry's "Cruddy", a totally genius novel and one of my favorite books, comes to mind: "He had a boy-smell coming off of him that made my stomach undulate. It was making me lean toward him and I could not stop it."

> From: Halla Roque  
>  To: Magnus Martinsson  
>  Subject: hot dog!
> 
> Magnus:
> 
> Hope this is the correct address. I've never had to write anyone whose email address ends with .se - it seems so exotic compared to the usual .com.
> 
> It was really nice meeting you earlier. I hope the hot dog tasted as good as it looked. But make sure you've still enough of an appetite left for dinner. How do you feel about deep dish pizza?
> 
> See you back at the 7-11. Email if you're running late - it's still 6:00 pm?
> 
> yours,  
>  Halla
> 
> PS: How is the conference going?
> 
> From: Magnus Martinsson  
>  To: Halla Roque:  
>  Subject: re: hot dog!
> 
> Halla!
> 
> Your message came through perfectly, as you can see. I'm not sure that my email address is so exotic but if it helps you remember it so that you write me more, I am not going to argue. :)
> 
> Thank you again for your assistance with the hot dog. I managed to eat it while walking back to the hotel. I was so close to not getting any of it on my shirt until the very last bite, when some of the chopped tomato found its way to my shirt front. I'm using my conference badge to disguise the stain.
> 
> Conference is great. I'm here on a cyber security track, learning more solving and preventing digital crime. Mainly career officers from INTERPOL and the like, with the odd reformed black hat (malicious) hackers. The main attraction is a consulting detective from London who's called Sherlock Holmes. He is not a hacker but something of a detective savant, I would say. He has interesting things to say about how he personally organizes and recalls information in his head and nowhere else using a mnemonic called a mind palace. Heady stuff (ha ha?) and a lot to figure out, but I'm sure my notes, once I've been able to decipher my own handwriting, will be of use.
> 
> Deep dish pizza sounds delicious - I looked up pictures during a coffee break. Would it be terrible if I ended up having to eat it with a fork and knife? It doesn't look like the pizza in New York you can fold up and eat while you go.
> 
> I'm missing a workshop on identity theft that I suspect is nothing more than a presentation for a product offered by one of the conference sponsors. I think I can be forgiven for skipping little more than a commercial so I can clean up. Unless the new way for chaps to impress ladies is to smell faintly like tomato?
> 
> Don't answer that. See you at 18:00 at the 7-11. I can't wait.
> 
> Yours,  
>  M
> 
> PS: It was delicious, the hot dog. How was your corn dog? Did the picnic go well? Wait, don't tell me now - save it for when we see each other.

I get down to the corner of Wacker and Wabash a few minutes before 6:00, my hair pinned back at the temple with a bobby pin. Despite the humidity, I decide to keep my hair down. I think my face looks weird and blobby when my hair is up and besides, I think a few sweaty curls makes me looks winsome and appealing. I chide myself for trying too hard, then check my face in the mirror of my compact to make sure my lip gloss is still shiny.

I blame the heat when I start imagining what my lip gloss would look like on Magnus's face, on his neck, on his dick.

And then I get flustered as my mind goes dark with naughty thoughts. I wave goodbye to a few co-workers walking past me on their way to the Metra while inside my perverted mind all is horniness.

Is he circumcised? Aren't all men in Europe uncut? I haven't handled too many penises in my rather sparse sexual history but they were all circumcised and attached to American men.

I bet his is big.

It's always the tall skinny white boys, the one who look like boy scouts, who have the monster cocks. I came to this conclusion the last week of college when, during a bout of drinking nothing but pink squirrels and zombies at [Ciral's House of Tiki](http://www.chibarproject.com/Memoriam/Ciral%27s/Ciral%27s.htm), I compared notes with my girlfriends. Well, they had compared notes while I sat and listened, wide eyed, hanging on every word, while I got so drunk I smelled like rum and pineapple for a week.

Focus, Halla, focus.

I press my thighs together in a vain attempt to stop the surge of heat and wet to my sex when I see Magnus walking towards me, his step picking up when he catches my eye. He smiles broadly and lifts his arm in a friendly sort of salute.

My inner thighs are positively drenched.

"Halla!" He bounds up, then stands still, as though he's not sure what to do. "You look great!"

"Thanks!" I chirp.

We lean towards each other, bobbing and weaving for a bit until he brushes my cheek with his lips while I sort of pet his arm limply.

Worst hug ever, I think to myself.

Magnus gestures towards my messenger bag. "Can I help you with that?"

"No, it's fine. I just have a few things, it's not heavy." I brighten. "Actually, I brought you something."

I lift the flap, withdrawing a brown paper bag printed with blue and pink stripes that I hold up in front of Magnus's face.

"It's Garrett's. I hope you like it." I hand it over.

Magnus smiles while he opens the top, peeks in and sniffs.

"That smells amazing. Popcorn, right? What flavor is this?"

"We call it [Chicago mix](http://www.garrettpopcorn.com/cp-garrettmix.html)," I say proudly. "A mixture of fresh cheese and caramel corn. Sweet and salty, my favorite."

Magnus reaches in, takes a handful and pops it into his mouth. Chewing, he almost laughs. His eyes light up - he looks like he's six years old as he eats.

"Incredible!" He chews, then takes another mouthful. "It makes no sense to me, these two together, but it's delicious." He shakes his head, almost in disbelief.

"Well, believe it. Even on hot days like today, people will line up outside to get bags of popcorn straight out of the popper."

"Oh, don't tell me you queued for this for a long time. Not on my account!" Magnus looks bashful.

"It was no problem. The wait wasn't bad, and my boss didn't mind me taking the extra break, as I brought some back for him when I got yours."

"Well, let me pay you back at least..." I push Magnus's hands away when I see that he has his wallet out.

"Please, it's my treat. Or you can get dinner, how about that?"

Magnus smiles in reply.

"Alright. You've got a deal." Magnus pecks me on the cheek and I take the opportunity to smell him.

He smells like... I can't describe it. This quote from [Lynda Barry's "Cruddy"](http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29015.Cruddy), a totally genius novel and one of my favorite books, comes to mind: _"He had a boy-smell coming off of him that made my stomach undulate. It was making me lean toward him and I could not stop it."_

"Oh, before I forget!" I pull napkins and wet naps out of my skirt pocket and hand them to Magnus. "For when you're finished snacking. It can be a little messy."

"Oh, messy isn't bad. It's kind of fun." Magnus looks thoughtful while inside I am dying at the thought of what getting messy with Magnus might be like.

"Thanks, Halla." Magnus cleans his fingers off, pauses, then holds out the Garrett's bag. "I'm sorry, would you like some? I should have offered you some already."

"I'm good. I had my own bag earlier. I'll take the bag back, and tuck it in with my things if you don't want to carry it."

"That would be perfect, thanks." Magnus grins while I tuck the Garrett's back into my bag.

I had been so distracted by the thought of Magnus's dick and then his eyes and his long fingers covered in cheese and caramel that I didn't even notice what he was wearing. A crisp, collar-less white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off tan arms covered in a light smattering of golden hair. Dark gray twill pants with matching Converse Chuck Taylors. He wears a braided leather band around his neck. It hangs loose, and bears a single dark brown bead. I wonder what it feels like to tug on it, tug on it hard, and kiss him.

Magnus notices me staring.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He grins, almost like he knows what I was thinking.

"Ooh, we should get that bus, if we're going to be on time for this evening's entertainment." I nod towards the 124 bus, which is lurching towards the bus stop on the corner.

"Entertainment?" Magnus asks. He follows me onto the bus, producing his own Ventra card and tapping the fare reader almost in a single movement, then joins me on a seat towards the back.

"Yes, entertainment. And congratulations on paying your fare without a glitch. I've seen so many people run into problems with those cards."

"Well, I am a police detective, and I have a background in IT. I think the payment system recognized my authority when I boarded." Magnus arches an eyebrow at me.

"Excuse me but I didn't know I was in such illustrious company." I roll my eyes. "How can a person as humble as I ever hope to keep you entertained and occupied in a manner befitting your rank?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something." Magnus throws an arm around the back of my seat, then peers at something outside, in the distance.

I bite my lip, look up at his adams apple, will myself not to nip at it, then join him in looking out the window.

* * *

"Okay, now look in the camera. Smile!"

Magnus stands on my left, looking a bit stiff as we stand and pose for the girl operating the camera. She wears a Navy Pier windbreaker and a slightly bored expression.

The bus just let us off in front of Navy Pier, a total tourist attraction that I wouldn't drag anybody to, let alone a handsome stranger I'm trying to impress. But I love [the Ferris wheel](http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/20/ferris-wheel-world-record_n_3306361.html). I love how it moves slowly, allowing the riders in its carriages to take a break and consider the beauty of the skyline to the west, and the alluring calm of Lake Michigan to the east.

We're too early for sunset, which we wouldn't even really see behind all the skyscrapers that crowd the lakefront. But the lake is still blue, and the lights of the city are too bright to miss.

"Smile please?" The photographer girl looks less certain as Magnus tries to smile. He looks down at me apologetically.

"Sorry, but I hate having my photograph taken. It always makes me nervous, ever since I was a kid." He looks up and tries again.

My hands are clasped in front of me sort of formally. My bag, which ruins the line of my outfit, sits at my feet.

"Here," I whisper as I slide my left arm around this back, resting my hand on his slim hip. I reach around his abdomen with my right arm, resting my right arm on same hip that my left hand has found. I squeeze him gently, but I don't look at him.

"Now smile." I feel Magnus shift into my arms, so he's almost leaning into me. I tilt my head towards his chest.

The girl takes the picture, then walks forward to hand us a card printed with a number. We can see the picture after our ride, and decide then if we'd like to buy a print of it for $20.

"$20 doesn't seem like much of a bargain." I muse as we get in line, moving up a ramp towards the ticket taker. "It's just three prints."

"But we're so good-looking, it would be an absolute crime not to buy them." Magnus sounds so serious I almost believe him.

I crack up.

"So let's buy the pictures, then. We can sell copies to other riders." I look around us, regarding the other customers as though I were their queen and they my lowly subjects.

"And then charge extra for autographs?"

"Evil. Absolutely evil. Oh no, not you!" I apologize to the young man in hipster glasses who steps up to scan our tickets, then shows us through a gate.

The Ferris wheel is slow enough to get on while it continues to spin. [My full skirt](http://plus-model-mag.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/image1xl.jpg) flies up a bit as I step into carriage number 20, getting in Magnus's face as he has to duck down quite a bit to get on.

Once the gate is locked, securing us inside the carriage, and the automatic track of Frank Sinatra singing "Chicago (That Toddlin' Town)" begins to play, we are on our way. Just me, Magnus, the city skyline, and the lake.

Magnus sits opposite me, facing north and the darkening sky. It's still humid, and nobody's heard even a hint of thunder, but I do feel a slight wind rock the carriage.

"Sky's looking pretty dark up north, though. Shouldn't it be light up there as well?" Magnus frowns.

"Try looking south. It's a prettier view, anyway."

Magnus twists his head, craning for a glance.

"Hmmmm. Just a tick," he says. He turns to look at me. "Mind if I sit over there? It would be more comfortable."

"Sure thing."

I get up, about to move and switch seats with him. But Magnus quickly moves to my bench, then takes me gently by the hips and sits me down next to him. The carriage dips rather low, swinging a bit widely, then it stabilizes. I put my feet up, pressing them against the opposite wall, anything to steady myself as Magnus scoots in closer to me. His arm is down between us. I place my hand in the crook of his elbow, squeezing his arm. Magnus responds by leaning into me.

"That's the [Museum Campus right](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Museum_Campus)?" Magnus tilts his chin, pointing south to where I can see the dome of the Adler Planetarium.

"Yeah. Soldier Field, where the Bears play, is there, too. There's a water taxi that runs between the museums and the Pier. A little expensive, but a nicer alternative to the CTA, or driving your own car through traffic."

"Oh, that's really interesting."

"It is?"

"No," Magnus confesses, and we laugh.

We sit in silence for a moment. Then two moments. Then three.

"So I was wondering..." "Did you have..." We speak over each other.

"Please," Magnus says.

"What's happening at the conference tomorrow?"

"A panel on how organized crime families are taking to the internet to join forces, recruit, find new ways to do their business. A catered lunch, which I'm sure will not have any Chicago hot dogs, and finally a tour of some federal offices. I'm eager to see what kind of equipment they have for their cybercrime divisions."

"See how it measures up to what you have in Ystad?"

"Definitely. We're a small force but because of our seaside location and proximity to the Baltic states, we do see a fair amount of things like trafficking, drug smuggling, money laundering."

"Have you always been interested in police work? Any family in the force?"

"No family, but I've always wanted to help people, and the police academy was a breeze. I love detective work, going out into the field for investigations, though I always seem to find myself at a desk, stuck in a windowless room full of servers and dusty wires."

"But here you are at a conference looking at cyber security."

"It's good to keep up with the latest. I wouldn't mind spending time in other countries, consulting like that Holmes fellow."

"Building your own mind palace, are you?"

"At the moment, it's more of a mind shack." Magnus laughs, his eyes crinkling. He looks serious. "Halla, can I..."

Magnus is interrupted by the Ferris wheel attendants, unlocking our carriage and pointing us towards the exit. We hop out reluctantly, then make our way to the shack where we can check out the official photo.

"No, I look terrible!" The expression on my face is goofy, like I was caught in the middle of a daydream. "At least you look dignified."

"I look like I should be on the side of a coin." Magnus frowns at the picture of us on the monitor.

"You gonna buy it or not, mister?" The teenage clerk has one hand hovering over a keyboard, ready to print our photograph.

"Of course." Magnus hands over his credit card, signs the receipt, then takes the card back along with three photographs and a cardboard frame in a clear plastic bag. Before he tries to shove the lot in his pocket, I take the photos from him with a sigh, then shove it into my messenger bag.

"Thanks," Magnus grins, then takes my hand in his.

He leads me towards [the Crystal Gardens](http://www.crystalgardenscatering.com/weddings.html), a large botanical garden with large green plants and dancing fountains that spit arcs of water at each other. A few people drift about, photographing each other by the water or crouching underneath ferns.

Magnus finds a bench hidden by some plants with oversized leaves. I take a seat next to him, crossing my legs primly at the ankle.

"What brings you to Chicago?" The words are out of Magnus's mouth before he can take them back. "I mean, you live here, but..."

I laugh. "No, it's fine. I love New York, always will. But the first time I saw this city, coming up through the south side on Amtrak and pulling into Union Station, I fell in love right away. And I was lucky, as I think the city's been good to me."

"How so?"

"Well, I loved university. All of my best friends are from there, and I even worked there for a time after graduation."

"What do you do now?"

"Actually, I work in IT, sort of. So we have that in common, I guess." I chuckle. "But it's project management, for a software company. We make trading platforms for institutional and retail traders."

"Sounds serious."

"It is. But I work with a lot of geeks, not unlike yourself..."

"Hey!"

"Yes, you geek! And they're brilliant, and it's fun to work with smart people. I didn't study finance or economics in school, but I love working on problem solving with these guys."

"So I guess that means you've cornered the stock market?"

"Oh hell no. I own a few stocks, but I prefer to spend my money on sound investments like makeup and handbags. I like my money where I can see it - on top of my dresser, or in my closet."

Magnus laughs. "A serious investor indeed."

"I like to think of myself as a patron of the arts, actually."

"Of the arts, you say?"

"Yes! In fact, I write, too, and I've started reading my work in front of people. It's all part of the live lit scene going on here in town."

"Like poetry slams? They used to be quite the rage in Stockholm."

"Yeah, same here. Not poetry, but more like essays. I write personal stories, then read them in bars in exchange for polite applause and occasionally beer money."

"Read me something." Magnus looks hopeful.

"Nice try, but no." I shake my head.

"What about something you didn't write, a favorite poem or story?"

Magnus's eyes shine at me.

I want to please him, want to kiss him, want to make him like me.

"Okay," I whisper. "I think I have something."

I reach into my pocket and grab my phone. I swipe it awake, then launch a browser so I can find the poem I need. Once I find it, I open my mouth to speak.

"Wait." Magnus looks at me. "Could you stand in front of me?"

"You're so demanding. What an audience!" I cry. "But okay. Because you asked so nicely."

I stand in front of Magnus. He holds my left hand in both of his, clasped gently. I want to cry, this is so lovely.

> _[They tell me you are wicked and I believe them](http://carl-sandburg.com/chicago.htm), for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys._
> 
> _And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again._
> 
> _And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger._
> 
> _And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:_
> 
> _Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning._

Magnus whistles softly, then kisses my hand.

"That's exactly the correct response to Carl Sandburg. Though if Carl Sandburg were still alive and you kissed his hand, his wife Lilian Stechen might have had a word with you."

"But perhaps Carl himself might not have minded."

"Perhaps."

"And do you mind?"

"Do I mind what?"

Magnus kisses my hand again in reply.

"No," I breathe.

"I do not."

I take a step towards Magnus, standing between his legs, enjoying the feeling of him stroking the backs of my knees. I feel him pull me in. I hesitate, just for a second, before I straddle him on the bench. I feel my skirt fall around me, covering our legs like a curtain. I hold his face in my hands, stroking his cheeks with my fingers, letting him nuzzle into the palms of my hand.

His hands are on my lower back, not moving, but grasping firmly. I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of his hands on me, his lap squirming underneath me. I want to enjoy this.

"Halla?" Magnus whispers into my hand.

"Yes?"

"Can I... may I...?"

"What is it?" I whisper urgently.

"May I kiss you?"

I laugh.

"Sure. What took you so long?"

Magnus takes my bottom lip, nibbling on it before pressing his lips to mine chastely. That lasts for about a second before he licks my lips, which part eagerly to allow his tongue entry. Our tongues play, flicking and massaging and tapping each other. The cool of the Crystal Gardens' air conditioning is chilly on my skin, still covered in a thin film of sweat.

Magnus moves a hand up, sliding it gently down the front of my dress so he can ease a finger into my bra, tease a nipple. Before I can urge him on, he withdraws it, only to move it to the outside of my dress at the bosom. He massages my breast through the fabric, slowly but insistently.

I wrap my arms around Magnus's neck, then tug on the leather cord around his neck so his head falls back slightly. Once I see his neck beneath me, I lean down and begin to suck.

"Halla..." Magnus moans. "How long have you been waiting to do that?"

I smile into his neck, then lick slowly and raggedly up from his clavicle to the tender spot behind his ear.

"Ever since you came running up to meet me at the 7-11."

I bite when I hear the rumble of laughter from his chest.

"Good job with the clean-up, by the way. You don't smell like tomato at all."

Continuing to kiss and suck on his neck, I unbutton Magnus's shirt, pausing occasionally to tease the tanned chest underneath my fingertips. I sit back, lowering the straps of my dress and removing my bra. I want to feel Magnus's skin on mine, chest to my breasts with their sensitive nipples, but I pause when my bra comes off, when I see my in their natural non-perky state.

As they fall free, Magnus takes one in his hand, cups it gently while stroking the underside, then begins to suckle. Gently at first, he tugs on the nipple, swirling his tongue around the stiff peaks. Then the sucking becomes more aggressive, and he uses his hands to massage them. I squirm under his mouth, gasping quietly, my hands fluttering around my head for lack of a better thing to do.

His mouth still teasing my nipples, Magnus takes my hands in his and pushes them behind my back, crossing them at the wrist.

"Don't move them." Magnus commands and I nod, then squeeze my eyes shut.

Somehow, while seated so precariously on this bench, Magnus pushes his pants and boxers down his legs. I feel his hands under my skirt, massing my thighs and squeezing my ass. He slips a finger under my panties, sliding it along my labia, which are wet and waiting for him.

"Oh darling," Magnus breathes.

"Oooh," I moan. I feel unsupported and a bit out there, still leaning back while Magnus continues to suckle and fondle my breasts with his mouth.

"Come, lean in." I move toward his voice, resting my head on his shoulder. I feel myself tense again when the finger in my panties becomes two fingers in my folds, pumping slowly, and then it's two fingers in my cunt and a thumb rubbing my clit.

"Magnus, please." I whimper as the fingers start pumping harder. The friction from his thumb gets stronger, rougher against my poor clit, which is aching for more attention.

"All in due time. I just love the feel of your cunt, your tight, wet, hot cunt, around me. It feels so good. It's perfect, you know. Like you were made for me."

"Oh, sir, you're trying to make me blush, aren't you?"

Magnus rewards me by pinching my clit. I squirm again, this time against the feeling of his cock against my entrance.

I grind it against while I feel Magnus reach for, and then hear him open, a condom packet.

"Just a minute... ah, that's my good girl." Magnus moans as he gently moves me up a little so he can roll the condom on. He resumes fingering me, then captures my mouth in his lips again for a kiss.

The tension in my legs and ass from straddling him is starting to burn but I stay in place. I won't move, won't change positions until he says so.

"You feel so good, Magnus. Is this something all the boys do in Sweden?"

"Something like that," Magnus murmurs against my lips.

I feel him shift, his hands moving to my ass to grip them tightly.

"Magnus?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you say 'Please fuck me' in Swedish?" I moan.

"I'll tell you. Right after I've fucked you, of course."

Magnus maneuvers my hips, moving me so that I can feel his cock right at the entrance of my aching pussy. I ease down slowly, adjusting to the feeling of his huge cock (I knew it) as it pressed up into me. Once I am fully seated, I sit perfectly still and wait. I suck Magnus's tongue into my mouth, enjoying his taste while my pussy begins to pulse around his cock.

Magnus responds by ever so slightly bucking his hips, driving his cock up into me. I want to roll my hips but again I want to make this last so I just clench while he pumps up, then slowly release as he withdraws slightly.

I know he is impatient by his ragged, quickening breaths. He's being so good. I hold on for a few more seconds then start rolling my hips, meeting every thrust with a undulation, a clench, something to tell him that I feel and share his desire.

He grunts into my neck, fucking steadily, never stopping.

"Oh Magnus," I whimper. "Just let go."

Magnus grabs my hair, tugging it back so he can easily find my neck and bruise it with his mouth. His hips are steady and pulsing, his cock hard and sure inside of me, and then he begins to fuck me harder.

I feel the tears rolling down my face, not from pain but from the intensity. Of the heat, of his mouth on my neck, and his cock inside of me. My nipples are so hard it hurts to feel them brush against Magnus's chest but the only cure is to grind my breasts into him harder. Magnus's thumb is now two fingers on my clit, swirling and pushing so hard I nearly want to pull away, the feeling is so focused and strong.

"Come for me. Can you come?" Magnus begs. "I want you to come. Please."

It's the "please" that finishes me.

I clench my pussy, rising up a little on Magnus's dick hammering away inside of me. Magnus uses his hand to gently push me back down so I can't pull away, can't avoid the near indescribable pleasure of his dick fucking my pussy so hard, going so deep it's the only thing I can feel. There's no room between us for his cock to slip out of me, or even for his thumb to miss rubbing my clit.

"Oh, Magnus, baby. Oh god, yes. Ungh. Just.... oh. Harder. Harder. Harder. Oh god. Fuck. Oh god. Magnus! Magnus!" He wraps his arms around me, one hand pressed firmly on my ass to still me while he continues to move, fucking away while I clench and squeeze and come apart as my orgasm wracks my body.

"Halla! I'm there. I'm almost there. Fuck! Fuck! Oh god. Shit, baby, yeah, yesssss." Magnus doesn't stop bucking even as I feel him come. I revel in the feeling of his cock twitching and jerking inside of me, and I wish for that he was bare, so I could feel our juices mingling together before slowly leaking out of me. It's a dirty thing, maybe, but I love it so much.

"Halla?"

"Magnus." I look at him. His pupils are still dark, eyes still hooded. But his grin is wide and happy, almost silly.

"That was hot." I kiss, then suck on his neck.

"Not bad." He shrugs so I nip him, and he pulls back, laughing.

"I know it's a cliche but I have to say..." I wince slightly.

"You don't usually do things like this?" Magnus finishes my thought before we crack up.

"I was going to say ride the Ferris wheel on the first date. Sex in public? I do it all the time." I shrug as I pull up my bra and wiggle back into the straps of my dress.

"You know, I was warned about you American girls." Magnus looks thoughtful, stroking my arms. "You're just like that poem. Wicked." He kisses my lips. "So very wicked."

"But was it worth it?" My voice is soft, maybe even a little unsure.

"Yeah." Magnus looks at me, looks into me. "Definitely."

"And now we get to have pizza. There's a Giordano's downstairs." I gently get up off Magnus's lap, ignoring his sounds of protest.

"But can't we just stay up here?"

"I don't think they'll serve us the pizza up here. Especially if we're fucking while they do."

Magnus makes a show of removing and disposing of the condom, fixing his pants, and buttoning his shirt.

We sneak into the empty ladies room to check ourselves further, and wash our hands.

"You know, as nice as this bathroom is, I could use another shower." Magnus catches my eye in the mirror while we clean up.

"And the wait for Giordano's is probably going to be an hour, if not more."

"I don't suppose they..."

"Deliver to your hotel, where there is a shower and fancy hotel soaps and bathrobes? Of course they do."

"Well, let's go." Magnus offers me his arm, and I take it. We practically skip downstairs and out to get a taxi.


	3. Wall To Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I push him away, keeping him at arm's length as I arch my back against the wall. I feel shy and a little strange around him now that we've had sex. Not just had sex but fucked, in public. Anyone could have seen us or caught us. I am grateful that nobody did."

Magnus's room is actually a corner suite at the Hotel Monaco, just across the street from the 7-11 where we met.

As soon as he closes the door behind us, he tries to pin me against the door to kiss me, to take me again, I'm not sure. I am soaked to the skin, drenched from the thunderstorm that started just as soon as we ran outside to catch the cab at Navy Pier.

The dark sky Magnus had spotted when we were in the Ferris wheel earlier had been a sure sign of bad weather. But I hadn't been listening, not paying attention, focusing instead on his pink lips, his golden hair, the blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled. The feeling of his body next to mine as we sat, almost innocently, in that carriage, with the city and the night ahead of us to do with it what we dared.

I push him away, keeping him at arm's length as I arch my back against the wall. I feel shy and a little strange around him now that we've had sex. Not just had sex but fucked, in public. Anyone could have seen us or caught us. I am grateful that nobody did.

I kick off my shoes then walk across the room to the windows that face west, luxuriating in the feel of the carpet underneath my bare feet. There isn't much of a view west - just the building where I work, but the [Jeweler's Building](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/35_East_Wacker) sports a beautiful clock, and a cupola if you press yourself up against the window and crane your face up towards the sky.

I kneel in the window seat, wet skirt heavy on my hips, ass, and legs, and pretend to study the people running for shelter in the streets below. I feel warm hands behind me, slowly rubbing my legs and feet so I feel the blood rushing back. The hands move up the backs of my arms and begin to knead my bare shoulders. I am shivering still.

I turn to find Magnus's face hovering inches from my own. I pull him in for a kiss, so close that I can feel his eyelashes tickling my cheeks.

Using him for leverage, I get to my feet, standing nearly on top of his feet. I look up, finally bold enough after a few minutes of bashfulness which, as a woman in her thirties, is probably a bit much. But I can't help myself. This is all too delicious for words.

"So," I whisper, blinking slowly as I take in the faint smile on his lips, the gleam in his eyes. "Where's that shower you promised me?"

Magnus runs his hands up my sides, bringing them to rest on each side of my neck. He strokes the backs of my ears and I can't help the goofy grin spreading on my face. I clasp his hands in mine, lifting one so I can kiss his palm. He pulls me closer into him, and I turn my face so I can press my cheek against his chest.

He unzips the back of my dress and pulls it forward, away from my body, and lets it fall on the floor. Kneeling in front of me, he hooks his fingers through my panties at the hip, tugging them down and off my legs. He throws them over his shoulder like it is a tea towel and he's going to dry some dishes, before getting back to his feet. He steps back a few paces, looks at me. I can't read the look on his face.

"What?" I ask. I feel vulnerable just standing there, wearing only a bra. I move to clasp my hands in front of my sex.

Magnus kneels in front of me again, gently taking my hands and putting them by my sides. Looking up at me, he arches an eyebrow.

I think I know what he is asking. I hope I know what he is asking. I bite my bottom lip, and nod.

Magnus sits back on his legs. He cups my ass with both hands, pulling me in ever so gently, until one leg is hooked over one shoulder and the other is bent and resting in the nook between his arm and his chest.

I still gasp in surprise when he brings his face into me, inhaling my cunt deeply, so that he may devour me.

I feel the tip of his tongue, tentative at first, lick my clit, swirl around the nub before cupping it. I am not ashamed to admit that I moaned loudly, obscenely, when he begins to suck. When he kneads my ass hard with his hands, then slips a hand between my legs and begins to massage my wet folds.

"Oh, Magnus." I manage to moan before he pushes a finger into me. He pushes slowly, waiting for me to clench around it a few times, before he introduces another.

I can't bear to look down. Not just because my belly would get in the way of seeing his beautiful mouth do these dirty things to me, but because if I look at his beautiful face I might just die from pleasure.

I always thought, given my awful diet of corn dogs and pizza and tacos, with nary a vegetable in sight, that I might realistically die from gout or some ancient disease that plagued the rich and indolent.

No, as it turns out, there was now the very real possibility that I might die from having been fucked so well.

The sucking is stronger, the fingers inside me more insistent. Magnus curls his fingers in, finding and then engaging a spot inside that makes me spasm instantly.

"Oh fuck. Fuck yes!" I hiss. I can feel it coming. Another orgasm, another burst of white light, a rush in my eyes, and a tingling in my scalp. I have to laugh. I do, hoping that my giggling is pleasing to him.

I press my cunt into his face and Magnus accepts, his lips now nipping when his tongue needs to take a break from sucking on my now swollen clit. I run my fingers through his hair, tugging harder and harder. I know no finer pleasure than this man touching me, kissing me, suckling me, fucking me.

He moves his tongue into me, kissing my pussy, licking the folds, pushing in and licking inside so deeply I begin to weep. He rubs my clit with a thumb, the pad rough on my nub, and this is it. I know I'm going to come.

"Oh, Magnus, I think I have... I must... oh god." I whimper, then scream his name when the thumb on my clit begins to circle rapidly, the friction almost burning me. I tighten around his tongue, the tongue which is still plunging into me, hard and sure.

I lean forward a little, grabbing Magnus's shoulders and squeezing when I come, shaking and shuddering so hard I fall, still coming as I collapse into a heap on the floor.

Magnus instantly lies on top of me. Still clothed, he grinds into me gently. I'm too raw, too tender, too exposed, but it feels too good so I don't tell him to stop. In fact, I wrap a leg around him, take his ass in my hands and squeeze as I grind into him.

Magnus's face is pressed into my neck. He plants small, wet kisses on my neck. I bring my hand up to rest on his jaw, not moving it even as he begins to speak.

> _Vad vet jag om din hud och dina lemmar._  
>  _Det bara skakar mig att de är dina,_  
>  _så att för mig finns ingen sömn och vila,_  
>  _tills de är mina._

"What does that mean?" I murmur.

Magnus lifts his head to look at me. He smiles, and shakes his head.

"No?"

Magnus shakes his head again.

"Please."

Magnus sighs and recites, tracing his finger up and down my breasts and my belly while he speaks.

> _What do I know about your skin and your limbs._  
>  _It just shakes me to be yours,_  
>  _so for me there is no sleep and rest,_  
>  _until they are mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://www.karinboye.se/verk/dikter/dikter/hur-kan-jag-saga.shtml) to read "How Can I Tell" by Karin Boye.


	4. Deep Dish

“So… what are you thinking?"

I let the question hang in the air between us, waiting for Magnus to reply.

He blinks once, then again.

“The super veggie. Definitely… No, the special.” Magnus nods. “That’s the better half."

We are sitting in bed, under the sheets, a Giordano’s box on the covers between us. Inside the box is a deep dish pizza, half special (sausage, mushrooms, green peppers, onions), half super veggie (mushrooms, green peppers, onions, broccoli, black olives, artichokes, spinach). We had ordered a medium but now I’m wondering if we should have gotten a large.

Because sex is work. Energetic sex with a hot Swede who has long runner’s legs and the ass to go with it? Hard work, and hard work demands a reward like a massive pizza to split with the hot Swede.

When Magnus reaches for another slice I try to sneak a breath into my palm, checking to see how badly my breath reeks of onions.

“I saw that.” 

I blush, I hope not unattractively.

“Maybe we should have gotten plain, or spinach?” I wonder aloud. “But I don’t think I’d like to spend the rest of the night picking spinach out of my teeth. Maybe tomato? That would have been sweet."

Magnus puts down his pizza then leans over to kiss me. He sits back with a satisfied look on his face.

“I don’t know, you taste pretty sweet already.”

He grins when I roll my eyes. 

“Seriously, what’s with the line? You’ve already had me three times.” I pause. “Or was it four?"

Magnus shrugs.

“So what do I say to have you again?"

Jesus. 

“Um…” I stall for time, trying to think of something. “That poem, that was nice."

“Mmm hmmm." 

While I continue to think, Magnus clears the box off the bed, placing it on the floor along with our paper plates. He wipes the corner of my mouth with a paper napkin, gently, watching my lips closely as he works.

I take this moment to look at his eyes, which are big and so blue as they focus on me. I feel lost when I look at them.

“I don’t think I can concentrate when you’re doing that,” I protest.

“I’m just tidying.” Magnus says innocently.

He puts away the napkin, then frowns.

“There’s just a little spot that refuses to… what’s that word? Budgie? Budge?"

“You mean move?’ I whisper.

“No, I like budge. It sounds cute.”

Magnus licks the corner of my mouth.

“There. Almost got it."

I gasp, and Magnus slips his tongue into my mouth. I purse my lips together, sucking on this tongue while I nudge it out with mine.

“Please,” I breathe. “Not when I taste like onions."

Magnus looks at me, pausing for a second before we both start laughing.

I wrap my arms around his neck and press my face into his neck.

“You smell… we smell, I imagine, like sweat and pizza.” I sniff. “And sex. Definitely sex."

I lick his neck, moaning as I taste the salt on his warm flesh.

Magnus runs a hand up my back, then brings it around to my front to brush his fingers against my breasts, my nipples.

“How have we been stuck in this room all this time and not availed ourselves of that bathroom? Was that a jetted tub I saw in there?"

“Well, there have been more pressing, urgent matters to attend to.” Magnus sounds serious. “There was the business on the floor."

“Yes.” I kiss his ear.

“That’s nice. Please continue.”

I lick behind the ear, planting small wet kisses while Magnus continues.

“The business at the foot of the bed."

I sigh.

“That was nice,” I whisper. “Who knew my lip gloss would look so good on your dick?"

Magnus smacks my ass.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters.

"So come on, boy.” I whisper. “Get me clean.”


	5. Andersonville

"Oh Magnus... oh god. Yes. Oh yes. Please. Oh fuck..."

As my eyes are closed, Halla's voice is music to my ears. My face is buried between her legs. My jaw aches from giving her pleasure with my lips, my teeth, and my tongue. but I am determined.

I've already made her come once this morning. But I'm determined to bring her to ecstasy again before I have to leave for the second and final day of my conference.

Tomorrow I start making the long trip back home to Sweden.

So here am I, giving this lovely creature her own parting gift.

I use my hands to apply a gentle pressure to her inner thighs, which spread wider.

I pluck at her clit with my lips, then suck it hard into my mouth. Release it, then take it between my lips again and suck.

When I begin to unfurl my tongue inside of her, I press my face further into her sex. I snort whenever my nose feels her sensitive bud, use my fingers inside of her, teasing her leaking slit while my tongue plunges in and out.

Halla's breathing is shallower now, faster now. Her fingers grip the side of my head tight.

"Magnus. Oh god."

She murmurs my name. I will not be satisfied until she is unable to speak it. She needs to be undone, and I need to be the man who makes her so.

I gasp her soft ass in my hands, bringing her cunt up closer for me to devour. Her breathing is wild and erratic. She grabs my head and keeps bucking into me, screaming my name as she does.

I do all these things.

And then I do it all over again, and again, and again until, finally, she snaps her hips and draws her thighs together so tight I might be crushed. This gives me a thrill, a feeling of satisfaction, especially when I feel and see her orgasm as it takes her.

Even when she sags into the mattress of the hotel bed, helpless and weak in surrender, I continue to suckle on her sex, gently, to get as much of her juices, her sweet nectar.

I lift my head from between her legs, so that I may check on her and gaze up on her sweet face.

Halla lies there, arms folded under her head, out of breath, chest heaving slowly. I crawl up to join her, nestling my head on her soft belly. I savor the last of her juices that linger on my tongue. My fingers stroke the underside of a supple breast, touching the mark where, she had told me, years of wearing underwire bras had bruised her.

She doesn't seem concerned about that, or other marks on her body. Scars, stretch marks, dimples on fleshy inner thighs, freckles in secret spots that she had never seen. Together they form a constellation, a galaxy, a little heaven that I am lucky enough to discover with every flick of my tongue, every thrust of my cock, every brush of my fingers.

I regard myself, looking at my own pale arms, my chest, my abdomen, hips, cock, legs. Unblemished, seemingly untouched. Blank. Empty. Just waiting for Halla to claim them, claim me, with her lips and their kisses, with her hands and their caresses.

With her sex.

I whisper, in Swedish, that she is mine, before I kiss her navel.

"What was that? Did you say something, Magnus?" Halla's voice is soft and warm.

I hesitate before speaking.

"I... or rather, you. I don't mean to scare you, but I feel that you are mine."

I feel her still beneath me. She breathes, her stomach falling then rising slowly again. She reaches down to stroke my jaw with her small hand.

"How do you know?" She whispers.

"I..." I struggle. "I just do. It was, just, I touched you. And there you were. And there I was."

I don't know what I am saying. This is the best I can do.

"Had you been lost, Magnus?"

"Not lost, exactly, but I don't think I was anywhere in particular."

"That doesn't sound very nice."

Halla shifts, gently placing my head on my arm so she can scoot down to face me. She taps her finger on my lips.

I shrug.

"It is, as you say, what it is."

Halla laughs, then leans in to kiss the base of my neck. She curls into my body, sighing.

"This sort of existential meandering isn't what I'm used to, pillow talk-wise."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" Halla kisses me again. "So when I touch you, what happens then?"

"Like right now?"

"Yeah."

"It's like the sound of the lights in my office when I flick them on, after they've been off all night. I'm usually the first to come in."

"Oh? I'm almost always last." Halla smiles.

"Well, the lights at the station are bright. Maybe a little too bright, especially if I haven't had my coffee yet. But these lights, they hum. It's this sound that, makes me think of purpose, of energy. It seems to center me, reminds me that I'm there, and that I have a purpose."

"So what am I, the light?" Halla looks up at me, her eyes curious.

I kiss her forehead.

"No." I whisper.

"You're the hum."

"Magnus, that's... I hardly know what to say. Except, I understand." Halla presses a kiss to my throat. Her eyes are big when she looks up at me, and full of wonder.

"And I'm not sure what this feeling is. Only that, I'm glad to know you."

She hooks a leg around my hip, then pulls it so we roll over, with me lying on top of her.

I looks at Halla as she lies beneath me, panting and moaning softly. My cock is pressed against her sex, which is still so wet, and begs for entrance.

"And I hope..." Halla kisses my chest, and clasps her hands around my neck. "I hope that whatever this is, whatever we are, has only just begun."

I lean down to kiss her, suckling on her tender bottom lip, before I shift my hips, spread her legs with my hands, and begin once again to slide into her hot, tender cunt.

* * *

"Will you be here when I get back?"

I ask Halla this while we're in the shower. It's a big walk-in affair, and there is a bench upon which Halla sits while she rinses conditioner out of her hair.

"What time's that?"

"4pm. There's a closing dinner but if you're free, maybe we could..."

"Get dinner on our own?" Halla squeezes the last of the conditioner out of her hair, then smiles up at me. "That sounds perfect."

"I think I'll go home and change before I come back. Should I just meet you downstairs, or..."

I lean down to kiss her. "There's an extra key for you to take."

"Thank you."

Halla takes a comically tiny bar of soap from a niche in the tiled wall and begins to lather her breasts with it. When she notices me staring she slows down her movements, occasionally brushing her nipples with her fingers. Grinning up at me, she drops the soap on the bench next to her.

"Oops," she whispers. "Could you come here and help me get that?"

"Of course." I take a few steps, then shake my head and laugh when she reaches for my prick when I am standing in front of her, just out of the spray.

Halla massages me with her hands, handling my cock until it is hard. I gasp when she leans forward and licks, the tip first and then the underside. She swirls her tongue around it, over and under and then over again. Her hands are warm on my balls as she massages them.

"Halla..."

She makes a humming noise as she begins to swallow me. She is careful, gentle with me and easy with herself, but I can still see her straining to accommodate me.

I am transfixed, watching her eyelids flutter on her round cheeks. Her mouth is hot and small and it pulses around me.

When it feels like I have filled her completely, Halla stops humming, and places her hands on my hips. She pulls me forward gently, then releases and taps my left thigh with her finger. She looks at me with eyes that are wide and dark.

I begin to move my hips into her mouth, minute gestures, so small. When I feel Halla groan, I stop. She taps me on the thigh again, and so I continue.

Her eyes are closed, and stay that way as I begin to move faster. I'm not moving in and out of her mouth, and we are are almost fused. I can see her nose twitch as she breathes, feel her mouth around me as she begins to moan. Her moans are getting stronger, and they match mine.

I brace myself on the wall behind her, plant my feet as best I can. Halla's hands are covering her breasts or plucking at her clit, and it's the sight of her hands pleasuring herself in this way that brings me to the brink.

"Oh Halla..." I whisper. "You're so good. Thank you."

I surrender to the feeling of her hot wet mouth around me, the water hitting my chest, the cold tile under my hands. I pump faster, trying not to buck my hips but I cannot help myself. She feels too good.

I feel myself getting closer, feel my cock begin to twitch...

"Halla, I'm going to... I've got to..." I slip my hand down to her jaw, stroking it in an attempt to remove myself so I don't come inside of her.

But then she shakes her head - the feeling of which nearly kills me, it's so good - and brings her hands to the backs of my legs. She won't let me go. So I won't let her down.

I feel my body tighten and clench, something about to blow, and then I come. I gasp as my hips jerk, as my cock spills into her mouth. I look down to see that Halla's eyes are open, so she can gaze upon my face.

When my hips stop bucking, she gently pushes me off. She licks her lips, never breaking eye contact, before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

Halla moves over so I can collapse on the bench next to her. I put my arm around her, then we both lean back on the wall behind us. I rest my head on her breast, and close my eyes as she begins to hum in my ear.

* * *

My day at the conference is fine. Maybe that last encounter in the shower before we went our separate ways was what I needed to keep me alert and focuse, or at least in a state of anticipation for my next date with Halla.

It's a date, but we're not dating. It has only been one night.

I feel very strongly, no, I am certain, that she is mine. I am hers. Touching her unlocked something, and my body hums for her.

There are women here whose eyes I seem to catch, who introduce themselves with laughter that is too bright, eyes that are too hard and hungry. They have upon them a sheen, a polish that is slick and alluring. I am good at flattery but it feels like a waste on these ladies who are not Halla.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket - an email from Halla: 

> From: Halla Roque  
>  To: Magnus Martinsson  
>  Subject: question
> 
> How do you feel about puppets?
> 
> From: Magnus Martinsson  
>  To: Halla Roque  
>  Subject: re: question
> 
> Should I be afraid?
> 
> From: Halla Roque  
>  To: Magnus Martinsson  
>  Subject: re: re: question
> 
> No. They're fun. I think you'll like them.
> 
> From: Magnus Martinsson  
>  To: Halla Roque  
>  Subject: re: re: re: question
> 
> !!!

* * *

I have time for a quick shower and change before Halla meets me on the street in front of the hotel. She's wearing another dress, this one a yellow the color of buttercups. She smells delicious when I pull her in for a kiss.

"Magnus, the doorman..." She murmurs.

"Let him enjoy the fireworks." I whisper.

Halla slaps me, then tugs on my hand and leads me into a taxi. She tells the driver "Foster and Clark" then snuggles into my chest.

"What did you do today?" I whisper.

"Well, I went home. I thought about showering again after the one we took this morning, but decided against it." She sighed, then pointed out the window as we drove north past Navy Pier and the Ferris wheel we had ridden just the night before.

"I got my dry cleaning, paid some bills. There was a movie I wanted to see but instead I..." Halla purrs.

"What?"

"I got in bed and thought of you."

I lift her chin towards me.

"Is that all you did?"

"No." Halla smiles at me, then closes her eyes.

"What did you do in bed, Halla?" I kiss her cheek.

"I could tell you now. Or..." Halla pauses.

"I could show you later."

"Okay." I whisper into her ear, then pull her closer to me. I open the window and lean back in my seat, letting the wind in to blow through my hair.

* * *

The corner of Foster and Clark is lively, busy with people walking their dogs or running into the liquor store to shop.

This is Andersonville, the old Swedish American neighborhood, where Halla lives.

She takes me to Reza's for falafel and hummus and glasses of white wine that are too sweet but wonderfully cold. It's too hot to have anything else for supper. She delights in pointing out the [Swedish American Museum](http://www.swedishamericanmuseum.org/) to me, but pouts when I refuse to mount the [Dala Horse](https://foursquare.com/v/andersonville-swedish-dala-horse/4c5b35fd9b28d13aca935370) on the sidewalk for a picture.

I make it up to her with a few old fashioneds at [Simon's Tavern](http://www.chibarproject.com/Reviews/Simon%27s/Simon%27s.htm), where I agree to be photographed pointing at the neon fish sign that hangs out front.

The fish is, of course, wearing a Viking helmet while drinking a martini.

"It's a pickled herring. Get it?!" Halla squeals and it's so cute I have to laugh.

People at Simon's seem delighted to have a Swede in their midst, so I am only happy to oblige the few patrons who try out their Swedish on me. Halla is happy to listen and try to pronounce words I speak, but she's far too giddy to make any sense.

"Halla?" I rub her back.

"Oh that feels good. Don't stop, please." She looks at me. "Ice cream?"

"Sure."

"Or home?"

I stop rubbing her back, then lean in to kiss her. I nip at her bottom lip, then whisper into her ear.

"Home, please."

Out on the street, Halla slips her arm through mine. We know where we are going, know what we are going to do when we get there, but still. We dawdle. Maybe it's being out with other people but I feel a little nervous.

Halla stops when she sees something across the street.

"Hey!" She yells across the street. "Hey you!"

I look, seeing nobody but a wooden box mounted on a bicycle. I let Halla lead me across the street, where I see that the box is a puppet theater. It's painted with bright colors. On the front is a clear acrylic box where donations sit, waiting to be collected.

Inside the little theater two puppets, a fox and a kitten, dance and cavort to a song from long ago. Halla finds a dollar in her purse, then offers it up for them to take in their paws. They take the bill, play tug o' war with it, before depositing it.

I am beside myself with laughter, and I can't help but take a picture. When the puppets appear to see my phone, poised to take a shot, they pose then descend below only to emerge with a Blackberry. They use it take a snap of me. I bow, then let Halla spin me around before we dance down the block.

"That was [Puppet Bike](http://puppetbike.com/)." Halla breathes as we move along. "Puppet Bike is the best."

"Clearly." I chuckle. "I'll be sad to leave it. I don't think we have anything like that in Ystad."

Halla is quiet as we come to a stop in front of a house. A light is on in the first floor window, which is shaded by a porch in front.

"This is me," she whispers before leading me up the stairs. She lets us in, and we walk down a hallway to her apartment door.

Halla's apartment is cozy, with a big squashy couch in a living room full of books and a few plants on built-in shelving.

"Shoes." Halla looks at me expectantly while I kick off my trainers and she takes off her sandals. She nods, then takes my hand into her bedroom.

Her bedroom is small, with room enough only for a queen size bed and a nightstand. Her lamp casts a golden light on the room. Somewhere, a central air system sputters on, and I feel cool air come out of the floor and over my feet.

"I'm sorry the bed is so small. Though I guess anything is small compared to the hotel... oof!" I interrupt Halla's apology with a kiss, leaning down to gasp her around the waist. She sits back on the bed and I fall alongside her.

"Hold on..." She pulls her dress off, revealing a bra the color of honey and panties the color of the sky. Her hair hangs down her back, curlier than before. I reach out to touch it, curl a lock around my finger while she looks at me.

I pull off my shirt and remove my pants, folding them before I place them on the floor. Halla has moved up the bed so she sits at is head. Her legs are spread, bent at the knee, so she can slip a hand under her panties.

I sit opposite and reach into my boxers, finding myself getting harder as I watch her. Halla's eyes close and her head drops back, her hand moving faster as her fingers circle her clit or plunge into her slick folds.

"Halla," I gasp. "Are you close?"

"Not quite. But it sounds like you are."

"I'm sorry but you seem to have that effect on me."

Halla chuckles then leans over to her nightstand to take a condom packet out of the drawer. She uses one hand to take her panties off, then arches her eyebrow at me while she waves the condom packet at me with the other.

I crawl towards her, groaning as my prick is hard and so sensitive. I could come before I get to her.

Halla slides her body down, widening her legs further so I can kneel between them. She rips the packet open and places the condom on my dick. My hips jerk as she begins to roll it down.

"Sorry, love." I finish rolling it on, then lower myself so I can feel my cock brush against her.

"It's okay."

Halla positions my cock at her entrance, brushing her clit with the tip so she cries out. I press in, giving her time to adjust. She grabs me and pulls me in, taking me by surprise so that I am almost fully seated within her.

"Oh god, Halla." I can't move. I enjoy the feeling of her tight cunt stretched around me, the walls slick and snug around me. When she hooks her ankles around my back, I begin to pump slowly.

I lean down to kiss her, letting my tongue explore and savor the taste of her. Her hands are in my hair, rifling through the curls that in this humidity are positively wild.

Her hips roll and so do mine. I match her movements, mirroring her, watching her face as she sighs beneath me. When I see her begin to circle her clit, I move faster, harder. I buck, enjoying the shuddering of the bed as it moves with every thrust.

"Magnus, oh god, yes. Fuck. Harder. Harder. Harder!" Halla's hand on her clit is so hot, I could watch her pleasure herself for ages. But then I feel her tighten around me, squeeze me.

I keep going, pumping into her until her hips jerk and she begins to thrash as she comes for me. Her pussy is so tight around me, milking me so hard that I begin to come myself.

"Halla! Oh god, yes. You're so... Yes. Yes!" My hips still as my cock twitches and jerks inside of her. I move down to kiss her, then fall onto her body. I am exhausted. It's the heat and the humidity but most of all it is Halla with her soft body and her soft bed.

I move to pull out of her but she stops me, wrapping her arms around me and hushing my whimpers. I didn't realize it until then how much I needed the feel of her body beneath me, the sound of her breathing in my ear.

"You know," whispered Halla. "I... I keep thinking of this book that I love. The heroine is a wife and mother, a former rock singer. Very happy family life but she finds herself drawn to a handsome man. A European gentleman."

"What happens?"

"They go to bed together."

"Were they in love."

"Maybe. It's never sorted. He goes back to Europe. She returns to her husband. They agreed that they were destined to know each other. But to be together?" Halla sighs.

"What makes you think of this now?"

"Well, here I am. In bed. A European gentleman."

"Are you going to tell me next that you are married with a child?"

Halla giggles, then presses a kiss to my ear.

"No, thank goodness. I think the heroine's problem is that she's restless, unhappy, unsure. The gentleman consoles her with some words that I have always found very..."

"Erotic? Sexy?"

Halla shakes her head.

"No. Welcoming, I think. I'll read it to you."

Halla reaches to her nightstand where a book rests. She flips through it.

"Ah, here we go." Halla reads: 

> _"It's about knowing and being as the same thing," I said. "There isn't anything to being an American. You don't even have to know American history. I mean,_ you _know things. You're from Western Civ."_
> 
> _Leo put out his cigarette. "Hush," he said. He put his arms around me. "You have no idea," he said. He kissed my neck and whispered in my ear. "Oh, my America," he said. "My newfound land."_

Halla puts the book down, then kisses my forehead. I feel a tear on my skin.

"Halla," I whisper. "Will you come to the airport with me in the morning."

"Of course I will." Another kiss. "I want as much time as I can have before you go."

"Halla," I whisper. "May I see you again?"

"When?" Her voice trembles.

"September." I am firm. "I usually take a week around the equinox to see my family. But I want to see you. I want to come back."

Halla gasps. I reach up, help her slide down next to me. She looks at my lips, my nose, and then my eyes. Her eyes are cool, and then she smiles. A real smile that warms me, touches something in me.

"September, then. The equinox. I like it."

I kiss her on the lips, and then I whisper.

"Mine."

"Yes," she sighs. "Mine."

Somewhere in the distance, a rumble of thunder and before long we are asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote that Halla reads is from Laurie Colwin's "Goodbye Without Leaving".


End file.
